


Pretty Good Year

by SBG



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Holidays, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3089141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny didn't want company for New Year's. He didn't want to celebrate. He just wanted for this nightmare of a year to be over, and for the next to not suck so hard. Steve lends a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Good Year

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, a little bit slow again. :)

He didn’t want to be one of those people who longed for the end of the year to come only to complain later how quickly time was slipping by him, but he was. He always had been, really, but he’d been working on it. Trying, anyway, mostly succeeding, he thought, until. Just, until. With a sigh, he turned the key in the lock and stepped into his dark, empty house. The illicit tree Steve had pilfered from the preserve was still up, Pua having never come to collect it for some reason, but Danny wasn’t in the mood for the cheery lights today. Today, a festively lit tree couldn’t fix anything the way his well-intentioned partner had managed to make it do a short six days ago. 

It wasn’t that so much had changed between then and now, except his solitude. He wasn’t regretful of that. There was only so much he could take these days. Grace was off celebrating with some of her cheerleading friends and Amber was out with friends. He’d insisted on both, not wanting to drag anyone down. Besides, things with Amber were … she was so young. Sometimes he forgot that. Sometimes, during the dark times when she couldn’t quite figure out how to reach him, he remembered. He remembered a lot more often lately, thought maybe the writing was on the wall. Old habits died hard, but he’d tried there as well. He truly had.

He methodically stripped off his partially-shredded clothes as he walked toward his room, taking the absence of anyone else present as freedom to strip down. The day had been long and had ended with him coming far too close to being mowed down by an angry perp in a very big truck. It seemed fitting that his body now ached the way his heart did, the culmination of abuses all coming to a head.

Danny felt sure he was the most miserable person on the planet, despite outward appearances he tried so hard to keep up for everyone’s sake including his own most of the time. He was a wreck, had been so for months, haunted by what had happened (Matt, Matt, Matty) and what he’d done himself. But the last thing he needed was another soft-eyed look of sympathy from anyone. Most couldn’t understand, he wouldn’t want them to. Steve was the only one who might, even a little. Even a lot. 

He flicked on the bathroom light. They’d said at the emergency room not to take off the bandages until tomorrow, but Danny wanted a shower. No, a bath was what he needed. He gave the tub a quick rinse, then set the stopper and started the water. A bath and a glass of bourbon might ease a couple of his more literal aches. He schlepped back to the kitchen to pour himself a couple of fingers, returned to a half-full tub. Setting the drink on the vanity first, he then began to gently peel away the gauze on the backside of his forearm, his shoulder, his side. He winced as the tape caught his hair, glanced in the mirror. 

In the brightness, he could only describe his appearance as ragged. Patches of ugly, scrapes stood red against the rest of his skin and beyond that, he looked tired. Bloodshot eyes, weary lines tugging down his whole expression.

“Daniel Williams, you are one sad sack,” he mumbled to himself, but somehow he heard it in Matt’s voice. 

He moved the bourbon to the edge of the tub, turned the water off and then sank in. It was too hot, stung against the open wounds, but after a moment he grew accustomed. Danny rested his head against the wall, slid further into the water and closed his eyes. He needed to shut his brain off, something more difficult to do when he was alone. It was difficult to not think about all the people out reveling and ringing in a new year, when all he wanted was for the upcoming twelve months to not suck as much as the last three had for him. Danny sighed, thought about the time he and Matt drove to New York against the express instructions of their parents, how they’d both agreed the punishment had been worth it. Tried not to think how Matty would never see another year and how everyone who’d loved him would never see another passing year in quite the same way. 

He finished the bourbon, focused his thoughts on the good things. Grace. His work. The team. Not for the first time in these mental exercises of his, his thoughts landed and stuck on Steve. Of the few constants Danny had in his life, it was only Steve who confounded him. On paper, they were a disastrous pairing, but they worked far better than any partnership he’d ever been in. When push came to shove, Steve had his back. Sometimes more obviously than others, he thought, picturing the steely determination on Steve’s face as he’d run at him, helped save him from worse damage only a few hours ago.

Danny let those thoughts and the soothing heat of the water lull him into a drowsy half sleep. He wondered exactly how he’d let himself go from thinking his partner was a menace to society to never being able to imagine life without him. He didn’t have to wonder what that meant about himself. He knew a certain aspect to his unhappiness was that he wasn’t looking for it in the right places. Behind his closed eyes, he considered a wide, sweet smile. 

When he next opened his eyes, he found himself sitting in cooled water and with a brain hazy from sleep. His skin was pruned and though it wasn’t terribly cold, he shivered. Danny pulled the stopper for the drain and ran the shower for a second to warm up before he toweled off and went to his bedroom to pull on a pair of shorts. He frowned at the puckered edges of his wounds, thought he should let them air before covering them. He heard raucous laughter coming from his nearest neighbor’s house, peered through the window to see all the lights on, a small group of people spilling out onto the front lawn. 

“Happy fucking new year,” he muttered, and thought how if Matty were there he’d be cajoling Danny into loosening up and crashing the party. 

It might be time for another drink. A look at the clock in the kitchen showed he still had fifteen minutes of this godforsaken year left. Danny was starting to think that his decision to spend the night alone was a stupid one. He’d left his glass in the bathroom. He grabbed another glass, poured and drank it in three quick gulps. The burn of alcohol in his gut didn’t help matters, but the subtle ease that followed did. He stood in the kitchen for several minutes, leaning against the sink. 

No. As sick to his soul as he was, he wasn’t going to say farewell to this shitstorm of a year standing in his underwear in the kitchen. As he often did when grim moments crept up on him, Danny remembered Steve telling him to try harder to see the positive. He had to believe there was no way the coming year would go as badly as this one had. To think otherwise wasn’t an option; he wouldn’t survive it. If he hurried, he might be able to re-bandage himself and turn on the television, watch the ball drop somewhere. Pretend like hell he was excited for what might come. 

He managed to apply the bandages to his arm, clumsily but effectively enough. The shoulder proved more difficult and he knew the back was going to be as big of a challenge. The wounds were barely more than skin deep, he knew they’d be fine if he let them alone, but he twisted his torso, trying to get a good sightline on his shoulder. In the mirror, what Danny saw was a shadowy figure in the hall. In that millisecond before his surprise turned to an offensive move, the shadow stepped into the rectangle of light from the bathroom.

“Easy, it’s just me,” Steve said, his own face sporting a few scrapes and bandages. “You look like you could use a hand.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Danny said as the sudden tenseness fled his body equally as fast. “What the fuck, what are you doing here, when did you get here?”

As far as Danny knew, Steve had a date with his new friend Ellie for the evening. He tried to look around Steve’s shoulder to see if his partner had come alone. He was happy to note that, yes, Steve was alone. Danny had no idea how long Steve had been there, embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed another presence in his home. He supposed that spoke to his state of mind better than any words could.

“I texted you a few times. You didn’t answer, so I came over. You were sleeping, but I stuck around.” Steve leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “You weren’t supposed to get those wet.”

“Yeah, well. I needed a soak.” Danny was suddenly conscious how nearly naked he was, how Steve somehow made him feel like that so often. How he didn’t mind as much as he could. “I thought you had plans.”

“You assumed I had plans,” Steve said, skirting past him in the small space and sitting on the toilet. He gestured for Danny to stand in front of him, physically shifted him into position. “I didn’t have any plans, Danny.”

Steve’s breath ghosted against Danny’s skin, made him shiver. The barest touch of fingertips followed, as Steve worked to cover the scrape on his shoulder. Danny didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. He knew Steve knew what had been going on in his head all day, how the ghosts got worse at night. Steve’s hands worked gently, sure and strong as always. Through the open windows, the neighbor’s party noise was their ambient soundtrack, discordant and misplaced. Danny held himself still as Steve’s left hand clamped on his hip, kept him immobile. The crowd next door began counting down from ten as Steve applied the last bit of adhesive to the bandage on his back, hit one as he finished and manhandled Danny to face him.

“Happy New Year.” Steve smiled, wide, sweet, but his eyes were somber. His hand was still on Danny’s hip. “I hope it’s nothing but good for you.”

Danny was so tired. The bourbon, the emotional drain of the day, Steve looking at him like that, with empathy of a man who knew was sorrow was. Steve knew Danny’s pain, but it was more than that. It was Steve’s pain, too.

“Should old acquaintance be forgot,” Danny murmured, “and never brought to mind?”

“Danny,” Steve said softly. 

Danny smiled, shook his head. He hadn’t wanted to bring anyone down with his maudlin mood. He put his right hand over Steve’s left, gave it a squeeze, then bent slightly and pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

Steve exhaled shakily as Danny drew back. He tipped his face up, eyes dark. His hands pulled Danny closer, right hand snaking up to the nape of Danny’s neck, guided him in for a chaste kiss on the lips.

“What was that?” Danny asked when Steve drew back. 

“That depends.” Steve stood and studied Danny for a moment, then tugged Danny’s hand and walked them both out of the bathroom, into Danny’s bedroom. “It doesn’t matter right now. There’s time tomorrow. You look exhausted, you should get some rest.”

“You staying?” Danny’s eyelids were heavy. He’d started the night feeling alone, wanting it that way, but now he wanted nothing more than to not be alone. He lay his head against the pillow, already sliding toward sleep. “Stay. You had a year, too.”

“Okay,” Steve said simply. He kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed fully clothed, as if he’d spent the night in Danny’s bed frequently. “Go to sleep, Danny.” 

“Thank you,” Danny mumbled.

The warmth of Steve next to him relaxed him. Danny slept.

H50H50H50

The sun’s rays warming his face woke him. Keeping his eyes closed, Danny rolled to his side, unready to welcome the day. The new year, he thought hazily. He pressed his face into the pillow, breathed deeply. A particular scent hit his nose, familiar, comforting and yet also foreign. He opened his eyes, found himself inches away from another face. The previous night came back to him, how he’d ended up sharing a bed with Steve. He stared at his partner for a moment, uncertain how this was going to play out. He blinked slowly. Steve had his eyes open, looked back at him.

“Hey,” Steve said. 

Danny wrinkled his nose, raised a hand to rub it down his face. Even Steve’s morning breath wasn’t such a terrible thing. He’d had suspicions, hints of how far he’d traveled along this path, but he hadn’t really known. He should be panicking to find anyone but his girlfriend next to him, shouldn’t feel grateful she wasn’t here and that Steve was. Ex-girlfriend, he thought, or soon, regardless.

“Hey,” Danny said. “What is this?”

“You could have died yesterday, Danny.” Steve raised up on one elbow, propped his head on that hand. In the sunlight, his eyelashes were lit up, cast long shadows. “I saw that truck heading straight at you.”

“I know, but I’m okay.” The bruises Steve had incurred looked deeper today, shadowing his face. “Thanks to you. I’m always okay thanks to you.”

“Same,” Steve said. He gave a small smile. “Funny how that works out.”

“Funny,” Danny said.

“After the year we’ve had, I just … last night when I couldn’t reach you, I thought. I don’t know what I thought, only that I can’t waste any more time. And I won’t lose you, too, Danny.”

“Steve,” Danny said.

He got nothing more out. Steve leaned close, kissed him chastely again. Behind the simple move, though, Danny sensed so much more. He inched forward, reaching his hands to touch, make sure this wasn’t some figment of his weary mind. His hand landed on Steve’s waist, fingers inched his shirt up until they met smooth, hard skin. That proved a greater impetus than he’d intended, Steve wrapping his own arms around Danny. 

Danny parted his lips, an invitation. The kiss shifted from almost sweet to hot in a heartbeat, the lethargy of just waking turned to a nearly frantic flurry of motion. That underlying suggestion of mutual attraction that Danny had always felt breaking open. He pulled at Steve’s shirt, the disparity in how much Steve had on compared to him frustrating and wrong. More wrong was the loss of Steve’s mouth on his as his partner pulled back, a temporary pause. 

Steve was efficient in removing his shirt, slightly clumsier with his jeans but still fast, purposeful. He returned to his place, half draped across Danny, hands roaming, exploring. He pushed Danny onto his back, moved on top of him until their still-clothed cocks aligned.

“Forgot something,” Danny gasped. He tugged at Steve’s boxer briefs. 

Chuckling, also somewhat breathless, Steve returned the favor. They wriggled and kicked free from the last remaining clothing between them, until they were skin on skin. 

“Better,” Steve said, mouth right on Danny’s ear, lips sliding down to his jaw, then his mouth. 

They didn’t slow down. Steve moved against Danny and Danny tilted up to meet him, not sure what he was doing. Didn’t matter. The bed was the last place for a brain to be. He arched into Steve, hands clutching as orgasm approached way too quickly, the friction of their cocks against each other uncomfortable and good at the same time. It was … he jerked from the kiss. As he came, he stared at Steve’s flushed face, a new expression to add to the lineup, one Danny hoped he’d see more of. Steve kept sliding against him for another minute, not quite there, and he wrapped his legs around his partner’s calves, encouraged him to take what he needed.

Danny wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so right as Steve following him down with a hoarse cry, felt anything so right as Steve’s sweaty mass crumpling on top of him. 

He lay still and languid, that laxness in muscle and thought after good sex. He waited for his breath to return. Steve moved on top of him, only so that he wasn’t crushing Danny, not losing the contact. His brain, offline temporarily, started working again. None of this erased the tragedies both of them had lived through, Danny knew that. Matt was still dead and Danny had still taken swift, horrible retribution on a defenseless man because of it. Steve’s mother had still had a hand in raising a sociopath who’d tortured Steve nearly to death on more than one occasion, tried to use that connection to the bitter end. They were both still the broken toys at the bottom of the chest, unwanted by most. Danny ran his fingers through Steve’s damp hair, felt the itch of their spunk and sweat drying on his skin and thought about how none of that mattered, not in this moment.

Steve mumbled against his neck, not actual words but sounds of contentment. Eventually, though, he pulled away and rolled to his side, next to Danny instead of on top of him. He gazed at Danny for a while, a curious look on his face. 

“What?” Danny asked, afraid of what the answer might be, afraid Steve hadn’t meant for it to happen.

“I love you, you know,” Steve said. 

“I know.” Danny smiled, traced the back of his hand down the side of Steve’s face. 

Steve kissed him again, both of them too spent for it to be any more than post-coital making out. When Steve’s hand slid against Danny’s stomach and hit the patch of drying come, though, he ended the kiss with a grimace. He gave Danny a quick smile, then left the bedroom. Danny raised his head to watch him go, wondering and yet taking the opportunity to enjoy the view. A few seconds later, he heard cupboard doors opening and shutting, then the bathroom faucet running a few times. 

Danny sat and was about to swing his legs off of the bed, thinking a shower would be good, when Steve returned with a washcloth in hand. Instead of tossing it to him as he expected, Steve proceeded to wipe him clean, swirling the cloth against his abdomen, down his thighs, gentle around his dick. He blinked at Steve, more than a little surprised by the thoughtful act. He smiled when Steve carelessly tossed the cloth toward the door and slid back into his place next to him. He smiled wider when Steve, already leaning in for more lazy kissing, paused and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? What’re you thinking right now?” Steve asked, cautious.

“I’m thinking,” Danny said, “that this is starting out to be a pretty good year.”


End file.
